The Bodyguard
by EleaDancingOnAPin
Summary: When a shadowy organization attacks Weiss and almost kills her, she decides she needs a bodyguard. Someone applies for the job who just might change her life forever. Eventual White Rose and many many other pairings. Enjoy! .


Well, this was a weird idea. I'll just see if people think it's good-weird or bad weird, I guess? Please, tell me what you think!

* * *

Weiss Schnee, heiress to the Schnee Dust Company and scion of House Schnee, ran panting through an elegantly sculpted, perfectly maintained rose garden. Her breath caught in her throat, her lungs were on fire. Dead thorns pierced her bare feet, as she had kicked off her impractical heels earlier. A root caught her ankle and she fell, feeling it twist oddly as she did. A likely medical scenario flashed through her head.

_Sprained ankle, possibly dislocated. Patient needs two to three weeks bed rest to recover and regain mobility. The patient should not under any circumstances attempt to walk until at least two weeks have passed._

She scrambled to her feet and ran again, ankle burning like her breaths and rolling unpleasantly.

"Help!" Weiss screamed with some reserve of strength. "Ren! Guards!"

She looked back over her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of her pursuers. Nothing. She allowed herself to slow, her knees giving way and her ankle filled with searing fire. Weiss crawled behind a tree, panting and gasping for breath.

Two gunshots, one right after the other echoed through the garden. Then there were just the birds singing, trees rustling, and Weiss breathing. She didn't think she could stand up if she wanted to... and why would anyone want to...

She blacked out.

* * *

Three hours later, Weiss opened her eyes in a sterile white room. A hospital. She was in the hospital.

She was safe.

Weiss immediately took stock of the situation. Nobody was in the room with her, but there was a small red call button. She pushed it once, then folded her arms in her lap and waited.

Mere seconds later, a full medical team rushed in. The doctor, a short, skinny man in a crisp white lab coat, bowed deeply.

"Heiress, I am so relieved you are safe. My name is Doctor Rhinehart, and I am the head physician at this facility. Are you feeling well? You arrived here three days ago." He said in a deep, resonant voice that didn't really fit him at all.

"I feel quite well doctor. However, I would like to know where I am and what happened. Where are my guards? And my bodyguard, Lie Ren?" Weiss asked politely. Her tone, however, did not imply that she was asking.

The doctor winced. "Your guards... fell defending you, Heiress. Mr. Ren, however, was the sole survivor. He is here in the hospital, in critical condition. He was shot five times in the chest."

"And you are the best physician in this hospital?" Weiss demanded.

The man smiled, sickly sweet. "Of course. Nothing but the best for the Heiress."

Weiss stared icy daggers at him. "Then explain to me why you are here, and not assisting him."

"I- Heiress I..."

"Out." Weiss said in a cold, flat tone. "See to Ren immediately." The little weasel had just been trying to get in her good graces...

The doctor inclined his head, and scurried out of the room. Weiss turned her gaze upon the nurse and physician's assistant who had been with him. "You may perform whatever... duties you need to." She informed them.

The assistant bowed. "With your leave, I would like to see your ankle. It was dislocated, and the ligaments severely torn, however we managed to set it back. I just need to see how it's healing up." The nurse, meanwhile, had begun marking down readings for Weiss's blood pressure and heart rate.

Weiss nodded, giving him permission. The man rolled up her blanket, exposing a cast. He undid the straps and looked for a moment, jotting down notes on his own clipboard.

"When can I expect to recover?" Weiss asked, her voice more polite than it had been.

"Three weeks, Heiress, by my estimation. You fully tore the ligaments in your ankle, and your Achilles' tendon stretched. Both will need to heal before you can walk."

Weiss ground her teeth. "Is there anything you can do to accelerate it?"

The man shook his head. "I am sorry, but your body must be given time to heal."

Weiss's glare reappeared. "Very well. Leave me, then."

* * *

Two weeks later, Weiss Schnee strode into Lie Ren's sickroom. Her ankle was protesting some, but not enough to make her worry. She was more worried about her sole surviving guard. She hadn't gotten a good look at the people who had attacked her, back in the gardens. It wasn't exactly uncommon knowledge that she took walks there every Sunday, but any group with the resources to attack her there was a powerful enemy indeed. And besides. Weiss Schnee would take care of her own.

Ren, already not a large man by any means, was positively corpselike. He had several needles stuck into his arms, and Weiss had the vague idea that he was like a balloon being kept inflated. Remove the needles and he'd just wither away to an empty shell...

Weiss was going to sit in the chair by his bed, but someone was already there. A girl, with bright pink hair and a short white skirt who looked like she could pick Weiss up and throw her across the room. Weiss knew her, somewhat. Ren's wife, Nora. She had met her once at a ball thrown for the castle staff earlier. Weiss had snuck in to attend, and had met her there. As she recalled, Ren was trying to pull her out of the punch bowl. Then she had been full of smiles and covered in bright red juice. Now, she looked almost as lifeless as her husband.

"How is he?" Weiss asked quietly, her voice barely carrying over the steady beep of the heart monitor.

Nora gave a shaky, but confident smile. "He'll be fine, they said. I know he looks bad now but... he'll pull through." Her expression retained it's cheerful mask, but hardened into something rock solid and terrifying. "Also, he's quitting. Right now."

Weiss nodded. "I understand. However, I have a better idea."

"I don't think you-"

"Just listen. What if he was still employed, and I just raised his vacation time? I believe he gets twenty days now... what do you think he would say to three hundred and forty five extra ones?" Weiss felt a pang as she looked at him. "He deserves it."

Nora looked puzzled for a moment, then a delighted grin sprang to life across her face. With a quick bound out of her chair, she wrapped Weiss in a hug. "Thank you!" She sang. "Oh, thank you thank you thank you!"

Weiss managed to pry herself loose. "Ah. Yes. Well, I'll just... leave you two then, shall I?"

Nora bobbed her head. "See you, Miss Schnee. And thanks for everything."

* * *

Two weeks later, Weiss was still in need of a bodyguard.

She simply couldn't find anyone who lived up to her expectations. Ren had been... exceptional. He wasn't going to be easy to replace. The normal guards, of course, were fairly simple. But finding someone to actually manage them, to be in charge, was proving to be another matter entirely.

At the moment, the Heiress was sitting perched in an armchair that sat comfortably behind a large white oak desk. Her nail tapped on a paper-free spot of the neatly organized table as she gave orders through a telephone, getting rather frustrated.

Earlier this year, her father, as a test, had put her in charge of the Vale division of the Schnee Dust Company. Vale was something of a backwater for a major city, large in size but far from any other civilised place. And it was proving absolutely impossible to get anyone to do anything. The people here were the most obstinate, stubborn human beings she had ever met!

After Weiss finished her shouting match with one of the supervisors, she hung up in disgust and noted to have the man fired. Pulling open a sleek silver Scroll, she looked over her agenda for the rest of the day. It was two thirty PM. And as always, at two thirty PM was a reminder. Bodyguard.

"Wonderful." Weiss sighed to herself. She picked up the phone again and pressed the button for her secretary. "Have any applications come in today?" She asked wearily.

"One, Heiress. Do you want me to send it?"

"Of course. Does it look reasonable?"

"Well... it looks... interesting. I'll let you see it for yourself."

Weiss hung up, tapping her finger on the desk again. A few seconds later, her Scroll pinged. New message from her secretary, with a file attached.

Weiss opened it curiously. "Interesting." What did that even mean?

The file was a scanned document, on which only two short sentences were scrawled, in a delicate looping handwriting.

_I'll be at the White Castle in your office at 12:30 Sunday afternoon. See if you can stop me._

Weiss quirked an eyebrow. This was an application? It seemed more like a death threat. Weiss called her secretary again.

"Are you sure this is an application?"

"Yes, Heiress. A tall blonde woman dropped it off. She said she wasn't the applicant, but that you should consider the person who shows up if they do manage to ah, break in."

Weiss bit her lip. "Very well. Sunday is tomorrow. I'd like the guards on the castle tripled, with orders that nobody is to be let in."

"Yes Heiress. Is there anything else?"

"Cancel any further appointments for today, and all of tomorrow as well."

"Very well."

"Oh, and one more thing."

"Hmm?"

"That one applicant, Russel, from two days earlier? He said something about being an expert in home security. I want him hired, right away, to do whatever work he can before today is over. Cost and safety are no object, and I want him back at two to disable them all."

"Yes ma'am. I'll see to it."

Weiss hung up and frowned to herself. A challenge, was it? She smiled slightly. A challenge was something she was ready for.

* * *

The next day, Weiss was cocooned in her office. The doors were barred, spikes had been put on the windows, and there were numerous booby traps on the hall leading to it. Almost a hundred guards patrolled the building and the grounds, and Weiss was feeling rather smug. Though she had been interested in the sort of person who would send in a letter like that, she was much more interested in winning. And while she still might consider them depending on how far they managed to get, she certainly wasn't going to lose. Not only that, but they could be any kind of lunatic, and Weiss wasn't going to just let someone into her office if she didn't trust them.

It was only 12:00, and Weiss had some time to spare. Idly, she looked out the window. She wasn't very afraid of heights, and despite being around ten stories up she felt perfectly fine. Which is why she was also clear headed enough to wonder why exactly one of her men was literally lying down on the job. Then she realized, he was likely lying there because he couldn't stand. Someone had either knocked him out or... killed him.

And abruptly, she also realized the downside of being sealed in her office. She couldn't get out, and she didn't know what was happening. All she could see was the one limp body lying in the petunias.

Needless to say, that wasn't very comforting.

It was a very long half hour.

* * *

Twenty nine minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Now, that was funny, because again, the hallway leading to the door was very heavily trapped. People shouldn't exactly be knocking.

"I'm not letting you in!" Weiss declared, a hint of panic in her voice. She was in a bit of a daze. This was just... almost surreal.

There was a slight pause, then a thud. One, then another, then another. Cracks appeared in her beautiful doors, and Weiss realized she shouldn't sacrifice good furniture for stubbornness.

"Very well, just please don't break anything." She said, standing up and walking over. She pulled the heavy deadbolt aside and the doors swung open.

Standing there was a figure no taller than herself. A large red cloak covered most of the person's body, and the only thing Weiss could see were a pair of black combat boots, dark pants, and a few strands of black hair streaked red at the tips. Without a word, they stepped inside.

* * *

May I have a dramatic drumroll? Who is this mysterious hooded figure? And is she going to kill Weiss? (Well, I hope not. That would make a pretty boring story if my narrator died...)


End file.
